


The Wraith's Choice

by Hot_Trickster



Category: NOS4A2 (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Blood Sharing, Eventual Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:55:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 20,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29604183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hot_Trickster/pseuds/Hot_Trickster
Summary: AU story where Vic does not run from the Wraith at Lake House
Relationships: Charlie Manx/Vic McQueen
Comments: 54
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've just gotten into Nos4a2 and I can say with all certainty that I ship Vic and Manx with all my twisted little heart. Review are love and fuel the dark plot bunnies, especially since there is no fiction for this pairing and I feel the need to fill the void.

AU where Vic did not run from the Wraith at Lake House.

\------

Watching Charlie Manx shut her son in the backseat of the Wraith with cruel finality broke something in Vic.

Her head filled with Craig’s screams. Screams for her help, screams as the vampire child started to feast on him during his efforts to escape. Efforts that were in vain. Craig’s and Manx’s screams as the Wraith burned them through under Vic’s own hand.

The detonator felt slick in her hand as she stood on the cusp of that same decision again. She could take it all down right here. Manx, the Wraith, Bing fucking Partridge. And all it would cost was her son. Wayne would die and with him all last remaining scraps of Vic’s sanity. This was the price of her meddling in the affairs of monsters.

The Wraith revving cut through the screams in Vic’s head and brought her to the very real cries of Wayne, warning his mother as tires screeched and the Wraith came for her as well. Fresh from Vic trying to slay it a second time, the rolling hearse of a car was coming to finish her.

The desire to bolt was stronger than anything Vic had ever felt. The detonator shook in her hand as she saw the car coming, growing larger and larger, till she saw the sick glee in Bing’s face and the cold concentration on Manx’s.

Vic was a coward, but her legs would not run. Not anymore. As the car came all that much closer she tossed the detonator away with a heavy thud in the fall leaves near her feet and stood her ground. Her eyes locked with Manx’s right before impact and there her eyes squeezed shut in preparation for the end.

Charlie felt true triumph bubble in him when the detonator went flying. What he did not expect was the whore not to run. Perhaps it was that surprise, a flicker of hesitation in himself. But the Wraith’s wheels locked up in a screech a hundred feet from it’s true target and it took all Charlie had to control the Wraith from going into a death spin. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the animalistic cries of Bing and the thump of Wayne McQueen hitting the dividing wall in the back. No, all he could fixate on was the scene before him.

Victoria McQueen stood mere inches from the gleaming grill of the Wraith, standing but shaking with the adrenaline that came with knowing death had arrived. A tendril of steam expelled from the front and fluttered her choppy curls from her face, as if the Wraith meant to touch her. And Charlie felt the softness of her hair ghost across his fingers, firmly wrapped around the steering wheel.

_What was this?_

Vic didn’t know if it was shock that moved her. Shock that she was alive, that the Wraith had stopped just short of cutting her down, or when she opened her eyes that Charlie Manx was staring at her with wide eyed, wild bewilderment from the driver’s seat. Perhaps it was the shock of a ghostly touch that made her shaking hand reach out and touch the still steaming hood of the Wraith.

When she did, Charlie jerked as if Victoria McQueen had slapped him, when in reality it was if he could feel her fluttering hand touch his chest ever so gently.

_What in god’s teeth was this?!_

“Bing Patridge,” Charlie said in a flat tone to the man beside him without ever taking his eyes off those watery hazel eyes in front of the Wraith. “I regret to find reason to break my promise to you. But there is a pressing matter that needs my attention and an end to your contract.”

Bing cried something about Christmasland but it was not the promise Charlie meant as he swung the silvered hammer wide and embedded it in the side of Bing Patridge’s thick head. Charlie never took his eyes off of Victoria McQueen, watching her startle, watching her eyes cloud with dark satisfaction as Bing slumped against the passenger door with a wet gurgle stuck in his throat. Charlie felt something darkly satisfying himself when those triumphant hazel eyes turned back to meet his, unwavering and clear.

The Wraith practically purred. A moment later it opened the passenger door to let the dead weight of Charlie’s former associate fall with a heavy thud on the ground outside. Only then did Charlie put the Wraith in park and open his door to slowly step outside and approach the frozen woman.

Vic watched everything with cold, satisfying detachment. There was human warmth beneath her hand rather than metal, and she could have sworn she heard a sharp staccato beat as the hammer ended Bing’s life abruptly. That was when Vic should have bolted or even tried to get to the backseat to get Wayne out. But some part of her, an alien but strangely comforting part of her just then said freedom for Wayne was not possible now that he rested in the backseat. Not freedom in this reality at least.

The driver’s door opening garnered Vic’s full attention and she suddenly startled to life as she saw Charlie Manx approaching her, almost hesitantly stalking her like an unsure predator. Shoulders hunched forward, arms held out wide at his sides, brow furrowed in contemplation. Everything felt confusing at that moment and Vic tried to take a step back from the man and that’s when Manx shot forward and wrapped one strong, sharp nailed hand around her wrist and pulled Vic up short.

Victoria McQueen flinched at his grasp and any other time, Charlie would have reveled in the fear he saw spark in her eyes after all the pain and inconvenience she had caused him. Mere moments ago he had been happy to see her die, but the Wraith had stopped before her, had answered her. And he was reminded just how special Victoria McQueen had been to him once. How her strong demeanor and selflessness had inspired in him a perfect match. Soiled and damaged, she was. He could still smell the liquor thrumming through her veins, the bloodshot look in her eyes not just from using her _knife_ and the Shorter Way. Long gone was the purity at which Charlie had held the younger Creative’s worth at.

“Get in the car, Victoria,” Charlie rumbled quietly, her wrist still captured in his grasp. Half demand, half plea at first. “Or I will leave you bloodied on the ground where you stand and you will never see Wayne again.” But the end was pure, cold threat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This will be eventual romance but ah hell, they are being themselves so give me a damn minute to get them there!

The sneer that curled her lips was second nature, Vic’s hand itching for a weapon as Manx threatened her. She was not eighteen anymore and even then she’d cleaned his clock before. 

“Why? So you can feed me to your children, to Wayne when you turn him?” She spat, not daring to look for her son in the back of the Wraith when she said it. She couldn’t help the raw pain that caught in the back of her throat when she spoke. 

And she sure as fuck wasn’t expecting Manx’s expression to soften the way that it did. As if he pitied her words. She was so transfixed on the odd expression that she didn’t see his other hand till he brushed it across her splotchy cheek. On instinct she reeled back from the touch while something told her to lean into it. 

“No, my sweet,” Manx sighed. “To finally take your rightful place as their mother.” His grip on her wrist tightened and his voice took on a sharp ting of disappointment. “A duty you’ve ignored for some time now. To the point you’ve robbed our children of both parents for far too long.” 

A broken, ugly laugh bubbled up from Vic’s throat, shaking her head violently. “What happened to being ruined, huh?” She spat back. Years later, and she finally realized how much those words had shaped her own opinion of herself. Unfit for motherhood, filthy, soiled thing. 

Manx tilted his head to the side to take her in, reeling her captured arm in with strength that surprised Vic till they were close enough for her to see the strangely warm hues in his dark eyes. 

“The Wraith has shown me the error in my ways,” he admitted. 

And that was when it hit home. Manx was being serious. He wanted Vic to play mommy in Christmasland, just like he offered eight years ago. Mind reeling, she tried to back up, but Manx had the back of her motorcycle jacket in his free fist now and held her tight to his chest. Too close, too close to her own possible death. 

“You would have sacrificed yourself and let Wayne have his happy ending rather than end me, Victoria.” Manx whispered into her ear. “Years of being the distant, disappointment of a mother and now you show your true colors. I brought that out in you, Vic. Not your family, not that pathetic excuse of a manchild lover you took in my absence.” His voice was cloying, purring in her ear and Vic’s eyes fluttered against her better judgement when his breath fell over her neck in his possessive tone. “It was me.”

“VIC!!!” 

Lou’s yell broke the spell of Charlie Manx’s crooning voice. And the cold reality of being held with such intimacy by her fucking nemesis crashed down on Vic. She pushed with all her might, expecting resistance, but Manx let her go so easily when she did. He even held his empty hands out at his sides, a mocking show of harmlessness. 

Vic’s eyes darted around quickly till they latched onto Lou, trying to run towards them in his half drugged state, even from here she could see the fear in his eyes. 

“I promise you, Vic McQueen,” Charlie Manx started to intone behind her. “In Christmasland they cannot follow. And once I have you and Wayne safely at home, I’ll have no reason to bother your loved ones. You can be with Wayne, forever.”

Out of the corner of her eye Vic saw her father limping badly, leaning heavy on the side of the house with a gunshot wound bleeding through his jeans. The beating on the Wraith window started then and Vic felt a frustrated sob creep up in her chest as she saw Wayne staring at her pleadingly from the backseat. 

Charlie Manx looked lazily from her to Wayne and back again. “All he wants is his mother, Victoria.” 

Vic’s chest tightened, squeezing the air from her lungs as everything happened too fast. Lou was coming and she knew Manx would make short work of another man she loved, and he’d make her watch. 

“I hate you,” she hissed at the other Creative and started for the Wraith, kicking the dead Bing on her way to the backseat, Manx’s hand stopped the door from opening though. 

“Ah ah ah,” he tutted in a sing song way, his face bemusement Vic wanted to punch. “Mommy dearest, you’ll need to be up front. Or you won’t make it to Christmasland in one piece, I’m afraid. The children do tend to get peckish on the way home.” He crooned. 

“Vic! Wayne!”

Lou was getting closer and while Charlie Manx acted as if they had all the time in the world to discuss this, Vic knew the truth. She growled at him and yanked open the passenger door instead. 

“Vic, no! What the fuck are you doing?!” Lou screamed as he got to the door and beat on the window. “Baby, get out of the car, come on! Open the door!” Lou pleaded as he tried the latch in vain.

She couldn’t look out the window and she refused to look at Manx as he hummed his way into the driver’s seat. Instead she looked in the rearview mirror, meeting the frightened eyes of her son. “It’s okay, Bats,” she promised in a shaky voice. “Mommy’s here. She’s not gonna leave you again, okay?”

“What about dad?” The boy asked, tears balanced and ready to spill. She turned in the leather seat and reached through the divider to grasp his hands as the Wraith started to glide away. 

“Daddy can’t go with us to Christmasland, kiddo. I’m sorry,” and she wasn’t ashamed that tears started to spill onto Wayne’s tiny knuckles when she said it. 

As the sound of Lou’s and even her father’s voices started to fade away into the distance, Vic heard Charlie Manx let out a satisfied hum. “Not to worry, my boy. You won’t be without a father as long as I’m around.”


	3. Chapter 3

They hadn’t spoken in twenty miles. 

Ten miles of the trip had been Vic McQueen soothing her son and possibly herself from the point of hysterics. Charlie did not intervene with his normal, jovial explanation of the upcoming charms of Christmasland. Not with Wayne McQueen at least. 

If he wanted Victoria to be mother to his children, proper mother to them all, including Wayne; he needed to let her be a mother. And when Wayne finally started to succumb to the lulling urges of the Wraith, Victoria told him to lie down and sleep. 

Victoria turned around, but as yet, she had not looked in Charlie’s direction. In fact, she seemed to be pointedly avoiding his presence all together. 

At the twenty mile mark, Charlie turned on the radio and flooded the Wraith with Christmas Carols, almost out of spite. It had the desired effect when she snapped out of her one woman staring contest with the road ahead and snapped the radio off. 

Charlie smirked. “I thought it might be best to start adjusting to the sound now. There is only one kind of music in Christmasland, after all,” he mused thoughtfully. 

He saw Vic’s jaw tighten and it brought a twisted kind of joy to elicit reactions out of her in such close quarters. Charlie was halfway to taunting her again when Victoria cut him off. 

“If you want me to play mom to your kids, why not let Wayne go?” She finally asked, her voice hoarse and in need of a drink no doubt. Vic McQueen was staring at the dashboard now, her shoulders set. As if she were readying herself for the next words she uttered. “Pull over and let Wayne out. I’ll give ‘em my phone so he can call Lou. And I’ll go with you, no fuss, no fight.” 

Charlie processed what she was saying and chuckled. 

Victoria finally looked at him and her eyes spelled murder for the older strong creative. But it didn’t stop his chuckle from growing to a full laugh, hearty and true. 

“Oh...ah, my apologies,” Charlie finally offered, wiping the edge of one eye he’d laughed himself so hard. He offered the distressed damsel a smile, as warm and full as he offered the children. “But the way you presented that, Victoria. As if ready for the firing squad to protect your lamb,” he shook his head and sighed proudly. “It’s why you’ll be the mother I always knew you would be.”

“Manx,” her voice changed then, a tone that pulled all mirth from him. “Charlie...please.”

The use of his first name was a ploy, he knew. But when he looked at Vic McQueen, her bravado seemed to have crumbled. Fresh tears tracked down her reddened cheeks. There was a strange beauty about her like this. 

“I’ll...do whatever you want. I won’t run. Just let my son go,” she pleaded and had she offered anything else, perhaps that old fury wouldn’t have built in Charlie Manx’s chest. 

There was small satisfaction in the surprised yelp Vic McQueen let out as the Wraith suddenly drove off the road sharply enough to slam her against the passenger side door. Tires squealing to a stop, a cloud of dirt and pebbles enveloped the Wraith for a moment as Charlie turned and draped his arm over the back of their seats. He leaned purposefully into Victoria’s space, watching as she pressed her back against the door. 

“Do not,” he crooned in a low, angry voice. “Compare my desires or interests to those of creatures such as Bing Partridge. Had I realized my errors earlier, I would have bludgeoned him years ago for daring to lay hands on you.”

Charlie saw it in her eyes, the fear being replaced by confusion, shock. 

“Both you and Wayne will come to Christmasland, Victoria. Whorish promises will not change that,” he warned. 

And like that, the furious fire was back in Vic McQueen’s eyes and had she not been confined inside the Wraith with him, Charlie thought very much she would have spit in his face. It made him smirk. 

Straightening in his seat once more, Charlie started the Wraith back up and calmly drove back onto the road. “It’s quite a long way to Christmasland, my dear. You might get some rest while you can.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sleep was something Vic fought against at all odds, but eventually, 4 hours into the trip she began to doze. She swore the cold leather seats warmed under her to help along the process, but at this point she wasn’t about to put anything past the Wraith. Sleep dragged her down and in her dreams she saw Christmasland, bright and vibrant against the dark skies, snow cascading down like so much icy confetti. It looked too picturesque to be real. The sounds of carnival rides and children laughing filled her ears. The smell of cotton candy and peppermint filled the air. 

“I dare say I didn’t expect to find you here, Victoria.”

Turning, she saw Charlie Manx looking at her curiously, the Wraith nowhere in sight. It was just them two standing in front of the open gates of Christmasland. 

“I don’t remember us arriving,” Vic said in confusion, her mind feeling fuzzy but full of warmth. 

“Because we haven’t,” Charlie offered matter of factly. “In fact we’re both asleep.”

The alarm that thought gave Vic must have been obvious on her face because the man held up his hands to keep her panic at bay. “At a safe place, of course. Even I cannot make the trip to Christmasland without some rest.” 

Vic didn’t know why that appeased her. It shouldn’t have. She should be angry, but the scenery and the opened gates intrigued her. It all felt very alien. “You said you didn’t expect to see me here,” Vic prodded, moving towards the gates of her own accord. 

“As this is the entrance to my inscape, yes, I am,” Charlie mused out loud at her. Vic could feel his eyes on her. “Perhaps it’s your being in the Wraith with me. Normally I’m only able to accomplish this feat with the children I save.”

That brought Vic out of her fuzzy haze and she turned on him, Christmasland at her back, the lights falling on Charlie Manx’s whippish form. 

“Wayne did not need saving!” She snapped at him. 

Manx had the audacity to sigh as he approached her. “You may not see it that way, Victoria. Believe what I say or don’t, I did not come to take Wayne out of pure spite for you,” he searched her face. “Though at the time, it was an added pleasure after what you did to me.”

Anger boiled up in Victoria and she shoved Charlie Manx square in the chest, hard enough to make the man stumble back a few steps and the look of surprise on his face was an added bonus. “You took Craig from me!”

“He ruined you, V-”

“I loved him!” Victoria yelled over Charlie’s twisted reasoning. Her throat raw in this shared christmas hell. 

Charlie looked as if she’d slapped him with that alone and there was bittersweet pleasure seeing that look. It didn’t last. 

“I loved you,” he said so softly the wind should have swept it away, and Vic wished it had. Instead they rang loud and clear in her ears and struck her dumb. 

\----

“ _ Mommy? _ ” 

Wayne’s voice woke Vic with a start, her cheek cold against the Wraith’s passenger window. She blinked the sights and sounds of Christmasland away, but Charlie’s words…

Vic turned in time to see him waking himself, having been leaning against his own door. He was stiff in his motions, a frown creasing the sides of his eyes and mouth as he ran his sharp nails through his sleep tousled hair to right it. He did not look at her. 

It was small favors that he didn’t, but his demeanor spoke volumes of something Victoria did not want to believe. Instead she turned to Wayne who was bouncing in the backseat. 

“What is it, Bats?” She asked as her son hopped over to the divider and presented a handful of white things to her. Brow furrowed, Vic took the small things and realized it was Wayne’s baby teeth. 

“Doesn’t my smile look pretty, mommy?” Wayne asked, showing her at least five pointy teeth maring his otherwise straight teeth and Vic’s heart sank. 

She looked at Charlie who met her gaze without a trace of remorse for what was happening to her son. Instead, he turned to beam at Wayne. “Well if that isn’t a fine smile for such a growing boy. Before you know it, you’ll have a whole set. Just like all the other children in Christmasland.”

Wayne preened with the pride at Charlie’s words before hopping back to his seat and playing with a little bat ornament Vic hadn’t noticed before. 

The smile dropped from Charlie’s face as he turned to start the Wraith again, pulling smoothly out of the barn he’d parked them in, the night sky making the road inky black around the headlights. 

“Not long now,” he said stiffly. 

Vic squeezed her eyes shut and stuffed the baby teeth into her pocket, knowing before long she’d have all that was left of her baby boy there. 


	5. Chapter 5

The closer they got to Gunbarrel, Colorado the closer Victoria was at her limit. It was easy to see as Wayne gleefully kept bringing his mother more of his lost teeth, these ones still speckled with blood. 

Despite their earlier spat, seeing Victoria secret the new teeth into a now bulging jean pocket, Charlie had had quiet enough. Mere miles from the old burned down house, Charlie pulled the Wraith over into a very bland looking gas station. 

“Are we there, are we there?” Wayne asked excitedly, the tell tale blue lines of his veins present, eyes almost bulging with excitement. 

Charlie smiled into the rearview mirror at his newest child. “Almost, young Wayne. Your mother and I must get a few treats for the road and then we’ll be off to hang your ornament.”

Wayne giggled and bounced around the backseat as Charlie exited the vehicle and came around to open Victoria’s door. She had barely registered any of them stopping it seemed, only when he opened the door for her did her head pop up in surprise. 

“What?” She asked blearily, her eyes wet. 

Charlie sighed at the sight. “A word, my dear?” He gestured for her to leave the vehicle. Glancing around, he placed a hand firmly on her back to guide her around the back of the station. She did not fight his touch, which said his actions were well timed. 

“You are not losing your child, Victoria,” he finally said once they were out of sight of the Wraith. Charlie said it as kindly as he could. This was not a situation he’d found himself in before. Cassie was not an example he wished to repeat now. 

“He’s more like you than me now, isn’t he?” She finally asked, looking at the ground where trash and cigarette butts lay crushed into the ground by the station’s staff. “I can’t even hug him.”

A thought crossed Charlie’s mind then. He wanted to ease some of her pain, but not in a way that would lose either Victoria or Wayne to him. They were so close to his inscape now. 

“There is a way to sit with him...I had hoped to wait till we were safely in Christmasland first, but,” he reached out gently and used one finger to urge Victoria to look up at him. Her turmoil was deep if she was letting him do it, but those damp hazel eyes met his wearily. “You might not be happy with me, Victoria.” He admitted. 

She gave the most unladylike snort, but it was a very Victoria way to respond. “You say that like I’ve been happy with you, ever.” 

“Touche,” he chuckled, moving in a way that forced Victoria back a step so her back hit the back wall of the gas station. “But it would please me to grant your wish if you’ll allow me.”

Vic was tense then, as he maneuvered her, as his voice pitched lower and she was aware just how much taller Charlie Manx was than her. The earlier stupor she’d been in started to evaporate as he moved closer. “How?” She asked uneasily. 

Charlie Manx’s smile was wolfish and she already regretted asking. “Until the children become familiar with your scent, you’ll have to smell like me, my joy,” Charlie murmured, dark eyes falling to her lips. 

Vic pressed her back against the wall harder. “What, you gonna rub up against me like a goddamn cat?” She hissed. 

Something about what she said made him chuckle. “Not exactly. I don’t have a scent in that sense. Not anymore. It would need to be a fraction more intimate, but less..,” he seemed to search for the right word. “Manhandling than scenting you.” 

One part of her wanted to hurl at the idea of letting him...do whatever it was he was suggesting. But all she wanted to do was hold Wayne. Hug whatever little bit of her son was in there. So she nodded, eyes averted. 

Charlie narrowed his eyes at her aversion and raised her chin again, this time to see her glare back at him. It was a change for the better, really. 

“I need to hear you say it, Victoria,” he coaxed. “I won’t take advantage as others have. But it’s the only way to give what you ask.” Charlie needed her to understand those parameters. 

Vic stiffened at the touch, but she didn’t look away again. “Let me hold my son.”

Charlie nodded and Vic watched in sudden fascination as the man’s teeth sharpened before her eyes and bit into his own tongue, drawing blood to the surface. A moment later, his teeth returned to normal and Charlie Manx painted his lips red with the tip of his own bleeding tongue. It was obscene and horrifying all at once, as was the realization of what he meant to do. 

“Second thoughts?” Asked the now smirking vampire who approached her with his glistening blood red lips. 

But Vic was staring at his lips with fascination and stepped forward, putting them on even ground, she wouldn’t have her back to the wall if this was happening. “Sure I’ve kissed worse,” Vic swallowed. 

Charlie seemed to take it as permission then and a moment later, Vic shivered as a hand brushed her hair back, the slightest touch of his nails against the shell of her ear as he tucked the curls there. 

“Don’t forget to breath,” he murmured before bending down and tipping her head head up. 

The touch of his sticky warm lips jolted Vic, not with how forceful it was, but how...gentle. It was a feather light kiss that barely left traces of his blood on her lips. Almost on instinct, Vic licked her lips and the traces of Charlie’s blood. Where she expected the taste of pennies there was also a ting of peppermint and chocolate to the copper. She wanted more, her exhale a breathy sound. 

Vic’s eyes shot open, not realizing they’d even closed to see Charlie Manx’s wolfish, bloody grin. Then the damn broke. 

Grabbing the lapels of his peacoat, Vic pulled Charlie down with force, pushing herself up to meet those painted lips. He moved with her smoothly, pushing her back against the wall with a hard slam that didn’t even register to Vic. 

No, all she cared about was chasing that taste, feeling the electric surge as Charlie’s tongue rolled against hers, painting the inside of her mouth with his blood. Their hands roved as the kiss deepened, sending pulsing pleasure through both of them. 

Images started to flash through Vic’s mind as she swallowed down Charlie’s blood, short bursts of scenery. Charlie, laughing and dancing with a beautiful brunette in a 30’s dress and long gloves. Charlie, smiling with a small babe in his arms, kissing the same woman with joy. Watching the same babe, now grown, tearing her mother apart in the back of the Wraith…

Vic jolted back from the kiss, seeing the man before her a disheveled mess. His hair askew, from her own hands, Vic realized as she pulled them back to her own chest. They were both panting, a lazy grin curving Charlie’s now clean but still glistening lips. 

Something about that look made heat pool in her stomach. But she couldn’t shake the images she’d seen. 

“Who’s Cassie?” She asked, breathless.


	6. Chapter 6

“Who’s Cassie?” She asked, breathless. 

Charlie had been content to taste her again, see if she’d respond to him without the headiness of his blood in the mix. 

But her breathless little question felt like a vice grip around his heart. “What did you see?” He asked hoarsely. 

With her pupils blown wide and chest heaving, Charlie was half tempted to never get his answer and kiss her again, kiss her till she had not the breath to tell him what he needed to know. 

“Millie…” She seemed to be getting herself under control, pity. “Attacking her mother. Is she...is Millie yours?” 

Charlie scoffed. “They are all my children.”

“Bullshit!” Vic spat and she saw him flinch. “You know what I mean. Is she your daughter?”

Charlie grit his teeth. “Yes, she is. My own flesh and blood.” He stepped towards Victoria again and touched her hair, satisfied that she hadn’t reeled back. “And I would not have what happened to Cassie be repeated,” here his voice pitched low. 

But Victoria’s eyes were so cruel in that moment as she met his gaze. So cold, but oh did she almost glow with his blood flowing through her. 

“Did you know what would happen to Cassie?” She asked coldly.

“No,” Charlie answered honestly. 

Her brows raised at that. “Did you regret it?”

Charlie smiled too warmly for that question, he could see it in her eyes. “Again.No.”

Something sank in Vic’s stomach then. “Did you love her?” 

The man she saw, the way he treated Cassie, that spoke of love. At least the bits she saw. But Vic knew that moments did not make up the majority. Her parents were a perfect example of that. 

“Once upon a time,” Charlie mused, his eyes distant. A soft tug on her head queued Vic into his having caught and toying with a strand of her hair. Maybe it was the blood still coating her throat or maybe some ability she wasn’t aware Charlie had. But she didn’t pull away. Instead she was transfixed with her darkening line of questioning. 

“How long before I end up in the back of the Wraith, Charlie?”

“Don’t!” Charlie suddenly hissed, pulling too hard on the strand of hair and Vic let out a grunt of pain. 

Charlie let go of the strand in surprise and backed away from her as if the pained sound had scalded him. He seemed to take a moment to compose himself, straightening the collar of his coat.

“Do not make those comparisons, Victoria. You are special,” Charlie murmured. “Now that’s enough about Cassie.” He seemed to search her face, then stepped forward to offer his elbow, as if they were in some Victorian period drama. “You will be safe with Wayne, I’ve made sure of it.”

Vic felt stiff as a board, her hand slow to reach out, unsure. She almost snatched it back at the last second. But finally, she took the crook of his elbow the way she’d seen it done on television and let the now smiling Charlie Manx lead her back to the Wraith. 

She could see Wayne, happily bouncing in the backseat when he spotted them returning. 

“Mommy! Mr. Manx! Is it time? Is it?” He enthused. 

Charlie smiled and reached into the open backseat window to ruffle Wayne’s hair. “Right around the corner, my dear boy,” he assured. “But make room, please. Your mother wants to sit with you for a time.”

Something dark flickered in Wayne’s eyes then and Vic found herself squeezing Charlie’s arm out of pure reflex. 

“Are we going to play a game, mommy?” Wayne asked excitedly. 

“No, my dear boy. We don’t play such games with your mother. Understood?”

The conversation chilled Vic to the bone, as did the disappointment in her son’s eyes at Charlie’s words. Wayne moved back onto the back seat and waited as Charlie opened the door, gesturing for Vic to enter. 

Memories of the boy she tried to rescue eight years ago flashed before her eyes. Wayne had the same pale skin and blue veins now, his smile a row of deep sea angler’s fangs. She swallowed deep and found she couldn’t approach her own son. 

A cool hand closed over hers and she looked up at Charlie Manx, who was looking at her with kindness in his eyes. It felt like some kind of twisted world where he had to be the one to urge her towards her own kid. 

Pulling her hand free, she took a deep breath before climbing into the back seat. Wayne was immediately there, sniffing at her like a dog. Then he giggled and threw his arms around her. “Hi Mommy! Can we go to Christmasland now?” Wayne pleaded. 

Looking out the still open door, Vic saw even Charlie Manx letting out a sigh of relief. 

“Yeah, Bats,” she said finally, hugging Wayne close as she kept her eyes on Charlie. “Yeah we can.”

Charlie Manx stood to his full height then, a self satisfied smirk on his lips. Lips she still saw painted with imaginary blood. Then the back door snapped shut.


	7. Chapter 7

Once they were settled in, Wayne nuzzled into Vic’s side the way he always used to. Head on her chest, arms wrapped around her ribs, his legs draped over her lap. Despite his excitement for Christmasland, her little boy fell asleep like that, wrapped up in Vic’s arms. 

They drove for what felt like hours like that when their destination had only been a mere half hour at best. When the sun started to set, Vic looked up to see Charlie watching them, now wearing a drivers hat, he looked the part of a chauffeur rather than who he really was. Catching her eyes in the rearview mirror, he touched the brim of his hat. The sign was clear. ‘No thanks needed’. 

She looked down her son’s sleeping face, brushing his still soft baby hair back and traced the lines of his now prominent veins. He felt cooler to the touch now, but his snoring breaths were still warm where they fell on her shirt. 

“Will he remember me?” She asked quietly. “Remember the life we had?”

“Only if you stay in Christmasland to remind him.”

It strangely didn’t sound like a threat. Just a matter of fact. 

She hugged Wayne tighter and he snuggled in deeper, one of his hands holding the little bat ornament against her stomach. 

“Just a little longer, Charlie. Please.” She murmured into Wayne’s hair. 

The Wraith rolled along aimlessly for another hour as night fully fell on their second day. Only then did they slowly ease into the drive way of the burnt down Sleigh House. 

As if on cue Wayne woke and stretched with a fang filled yawn. As she seemed to get used to it, Vic found it just as adorable as his normal yawns. “Are we there, mommy?”

“I think so, kiddo,” she murmured, seeing the trees with all their different ornaments swaying in the night air outside the window. 

Charlie opened the door and doffed his drivers cap at them both. “Last stop before Christmasland,” he announced like an enthusiastic train conductor or the barker at a carnival. 

Without warning, Wayne bounced over her and out the door like a shot, giggling the whole way with his ornament in hand, like he knew what was to come next. Vic needed a moment to stretch her legs before moving and was met with Charlie’s offered hand at the door. She stared at it for a moment, then at the man’s expectant face. 

In for a penny…

She’d done worse so far. So Vic took his hand and let him lead her out of the Wraith and behind Wayne who was vibrating with excitement. 

Releasing Vic’s hand, he put it on Wayne’s shoulder and leaned down to speak to the small boy. “Time to hang your ornament, young Wayne.” He gave the boy a soft nudge. “Off you go.”

Wayne dashed into the trees without any further encouragement and Vic tried to go after him, but found Charlie grasping her elbow to stop her. 

“I want to go with him,” she snapped, not wanting to lose sight of her little boy. 

“Victoria,” Charlie chastised. “I have never lost a child in these trees, Wayne will be no different.”

Vic wanted to yell at him then, fight the way she had at the beginning of this crazy ride. But she was too tired and quiet honestly, had resigned herself to hers and Wayne’s fates along the road to Christmasland. It was easier, she had found, to accept it. 

Instead, she pulled her arm away and went to crouch in the snow near the trees, waiting for her son to return. Charlie waited with her at a distance in silence. 

The seconds ticked by for Vic. Part of her hoping in some mad way that Wayne had fully come back to himself outside the Wraith and was hiding. Maybe he’d run, find help and be free. Another, possessive part of her, a part that had been growing over the trip, wanted her son back. She wanted to hug and carry him back to the Wraith where she knew he’d be safe. It was a duality that made Vic’s stomach twist in knots. 

Then a tinkle of something brushing against ornaments perked her attention and soon Wayne came running through trees towards them, empty handed and porcelain white. It was done. 

Wayne leapt into her arms, giggling near her ear and Vic couldn’t help but laugh at his delight. “Good job, kiddo,” she praised, even as it made her feel sick. 

With Wayne in her arms, she turned to look at Charlie who had all this time waited in silence for them to finish. He did not approach them, but he stared at them with tension present in his whole frame, his expression unreadable. 

Vic realized then that they could run. Charlie had obviously made an error and noticed it too late. All it would take was a mad dash in the snow and get back towards town, hell, even back to the garage where she knew they had weapons stowed. The idea of calling Lou sent a sad twinging ache through her heart. 

“Victoria…”

Vic’s eyes refocused on Charlie as he spoke. It was hard to tell if her name was meant to be threat, warning or plea. She wasn’t sure if either of them knew. 

Neither of them spoke for what felt like forever. 

Then Wayne started to squirm until he could pull back enough to look at Vic’s face. “Time to go?” He asked, eyes bright and smile wide. 

Tears pricked at the corners of Vic’s eyes. Even if she broke the ornament, Wayne already belonged to Christmasland. And she’d let it happen. She’d given up on the real world the moment she got into the Wraith. 

“Soon, Bats. Go to Charlie, mommy needs to do something, okay?” she sniffed, scrubbing at her own eyes as she set her son down. He ran giggling in his pjs and socks to Charlie’s side, like a good boy. 

Charlie himself took a step towards her and Vic took a step back, holding her hand up. “Just...just give me a sec,” she pleaded. And like her plea to hug her son, he quietly stopped. 

Vic turned and sat in the snow, pulling her cellphone from her jacket pocket. Her fingers trembled as they pushed down the power button. Vic had turned it off as soon as she got in the Wraith, now as it buzzed to life the sound of calls and texts rang through the air like a sea of nats. Names flew by on the display. Mom, Lou, Maggie, Dad, even Tabitha. Hectic text messages in all caps, phone calls numbering in the double digits for each caller. 

She couldn’t read them, could not listen to the countless voice mails. 

Instead she clicked on Lou’s name and brought the trembling phone to her ear. Whether is was the universe having some pity on Vic McQueen for once or dumb luck, it rang to voicemail. Maybe Lou had passed out or his phone died. Either way, her eyes welled up at his goofy voicemail, where she heard her own voice and Wayne’s in the background. The beep sounded and Vic found she couldn’t speak for a moment. 

“Hey…” came out as a thick click with lame lighthearted humor. Vic flinched at the sound of her own voice and swallowed, tried again. “I’m so sorry Lou...I screwed up, again.” She started to rock slowly in the snow as she spoke. “I shoulda tried to stop it for miles now. I shoulda tried to run, but I couldn’t. Just like I couldn’t accept that Manx was dead and dragged you and Wayne along with me. I’m sorry I let things happen, that I put everyone in danger. I’m sorry that I’m taking Wayne to Christmasland now, but I…” she felt hot tears start to track down her face, stinging against the cold of the night. “I’m too chickenshit to not go. I’m so tired, Lou. I’m tired of running, of being scared and this is just the easy way out...I know that. We’ll call, okay...I promise…” Her voice got wilder as she made promises she didn’t even know if she could keep. “I love you, Lou Carmody…”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this wild ride!

No sooner had she hung up the phone, choking back more tears when the phone was snatched from her hand. Charlie’s coattails flickered past her prone form and Vic watched in amazement as the device was set on a tree stump. The sudden glint of the silver hammer raising above Charlie’s head was the only warning Vic got of what he was about to do. He brought the hammer down on the phone and shattered the screen. Grunting with frustration, he brought the hammer down again and again until the phone was nothing but broken glass and wiring. 

Rolling his shoulders, Charlie rolled his neck and swept his hair back into place before turning towards Vic. 

She had been frozen during the whole process, staring at Charlie Manx in wide eyed fascination. Now seeing him, chest heaving with the hammer in hand, Vic’s heart started to thump madly in her chest. He stalked towards her, his breath visible in the cold night air. This was it, wasn’t it?

Tears still streaming down her cheeks, Vic looked up at Charlie as he towered over her finally. 

“I have been  _ extremely  _ patient with you, Victoria. But it’s time we leave,” his voice was cold. Whatever warmth he had imbued in his words the last 8 hours was now gone. 

So she was surprised when he offered his hand to her, the hammer still gleaming in the other. He was equally surprised when she smacked his hand away. 

“ _ Victoria, _ ” he snarled in warning. 

Vic shot to her own feet. “No, you don’t get to do this, Charlie. I was saying goodbye! You won and you can’t even let me have that!” She shouted back at him. 

Charlie grabbed her upper arm hard with his free hand. “You would parade your love for that man in front of me like a wanton-” He paused, looking as if he was swallowing the word back down. 

But Vic grit her teeth at him. “Say it,” she encouraged him mockingly. “Say it, we both know you wanna. A whore, right?” Vic shook her head, got in his face, even as he held her. “Cept you want the same thing from me, don’t ya?”

Charlie sneered down at her. “I have done my best to make this as easy as possible for you, Vic McQueen. But you dredge up things I’d sooner forget. I have a mind to leave you here in pieces rather than have you sully Chri-”

_ HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! _

Vic and Charlie both looked up to see the Wraith blaring her horn with no one at the driver’s seat. The lights flashing in time with the honks while Wayne giggled and bounced in the back. The two Strong Creatives let go of each other and only then did the honking stop. 

Both driver and passenger seat popped open for them before the engine revved in seeming annoyance. 

“Did she just…” Vic started, dumbstruck. 

“Chastise us?” Charlie finished, head cocked oddly at his own vehicle. “It appears so.” He sighed, purposefully stuffing the hammer in his coat pocket before turning to Victoria. “After you,” he said stiffly. 

Whatever had broken open had not been put to rest by any means. But it was clear to both of them at this point. The Wraith still decided where Vic McQueen was going, and that was Christmasland. 

In the Wraith, the heat blasted a little too warm in the front seat and Charlie seemed to scowl a little at his own knife. Vic eyed driver and dashboard. 

“She ah, do this often?” Vic finally asked. 

“No,” Charlie mused in annoyance. “This is  _ very _ new.”

Better the Wraith be the focus of Charlie’s annoyance rather than Vic herself. In all honesty, she was happy the car had intervened. She could still feel the heat of Charlie’s hand on her arm and she had not hated his touch, even in the midst of a vicious screaming match. Vic rubbed at it absently. 

As snow started to fall, Charlie caught sight of the gesture. His shoulders seem to lower from around his ears. “Did I hurt you?” He asked quietly. 

Vic shook her head. 

“Good.”

It was the last thing Vic heard before the scenery started to distract her. The life size candy canes were a sight on their own, but the eerie snowman pointing them down the road made Vic duck her head to catch sight of each new oddity that came into view. 

“Wow!” Wayne whispered reverently from the back. “Mommy, look up ahead, look!” 

Vic did. And there against the snowy night sky was a brilliant cascade of lights and towering rides that got larger and larger as they approached. 

Charlie’s chest swelled proudly at their stunned expressions. He felt the ugly mood sluff off his shoulders like a melting snowdrift. “Bruce Wayne McQueen, Victoria McQueen, may I welcome you to Christmasland.”

The candy cane gates opened smoothly for the Wraith, welcoming them into the twinkling glory of Christmasland and soundly closing behind. 

Vic barely noticed. As Charlie parked, Vic found herself already opening her door to step outside with the crunch of fresh snow under her boots. Her eyes trying to take it all in and failing miserably as the coaster, ferris wheel and shops blended together in a whirl of color and lights. 

Wayne came bounding out of the backseat the moment Charlie opened the door, bouncing from window to window at the nearest shops. “Mommy, mommy, look. Can I pick a costume at the store? Can I get a candy apple?”

Vic’s head whirled and she took a step back and almost bumped right into Charlie’s chest he was so close. 

“How’d you...how’d you do all this?” She asked in bewilderment. “Mine’s just a rickety old bridge.”

Charlie felt that pride tickle in his chest again, taking her praise like a preening bird. “I did not find my final inscape for many years. It was with the help of my daughter, Millie, that it came to reality.” Charlie looked past her and smiled. “Ah, here she is now.”

Vic followed Charlie’s gaze, thinking she’d find a whippish little miniature of Manx himself. What she was not expecting was the small army of porcelain white and red smeared children moving towards them like a pack of wolves. 

Each little pair of hands wielding not toys, but throwing axes, butcher knives and some even had machetes. Their dark eyes gleaming with hunger as they approached with slow, deliberate ease of tiny predators. 

Vic backed up quickly in surprise, bumping back into Charlie’s chest in the process once more. 

“What the f-”


	9. Chapter 9

A cool hand clamped over Vic’s mouth to cut off the rest of the curse, muffling the noise against Charlie’s palm. Vic shifted her head back against the man’s chest to look up at him with wide eyes. 

“Let’s not begin your time as mother by teaching the children profanities, dearest,” he said with such cheek that Vic forgot about her fear altogether for a moment and glared at him. 

Charlie answered her with a smirk.

Sliding his hand from Vic’s mouth, Charlie swept past her to address the mob of children and blessedly put himself in the middle. 

“My little darlings, I’ve brought you two presents on this joyous day Christmas morning.” He announced to the now shark like grins of the children. “First a new friend,” and Vic’s heart jumped in her throat as he reached a hand out for Wayne. 

She almost darted for her son and it seemed Charlie expected that, because his free hand gestured back towards her, palm up, in a gesture for her stay. Vic hated it, but she listened. This was Charlie Manx’s inscape, his world. Who knows what would happen if she fucked up this presentation. 

It still twisted her gut when Wayne happily skipped to Charlie’s side and took his hand. 

“This is Wayne. He will be your new playmate, your new brother from now on. You’ll have to teach him all the best games.”

Then Charlie’s free hand turned at the wrist and it was a clear indication he expected Vic to take it. She hated how quickly she moved forward to take it, how Charlie felt like a lifeline in this upside down world, especially as her eyes had started to focus on what was really in the shop windows. 

Bile pooled in her stomach and threatened to escape the more her eyes took in the decorations, the large tree behind the children. The sightless, screaming heads that adorned it. Charlie squeezing Vic’s hand brought her attention back to the pack of wild children in front of them. 

“And this, children, is Victoria. She is your mother from this day forward.” Some of the children edged forward at the word mother and Charlie let go of Wayne’s hand to make them stop. “Now they’ll be no Scissors for the Drifter, nor Carve the Goose or any such games with your mother. She is here to love and look after you all, just as I do. Is that understood?” He asked carefully. 

The grins on the children’s faces changed then. Their eyes brightening as they sheathed weapons and raced forward. Some to meet Wayne it seemed, but most came to swarm around Vic. At some point she lost hold of Charlie’s hand, there were so many of them. And Charlie seemed distracted, concerned as he scanned the crowd for someone. It left Vic alone in a sea of bloody, shark toothed children as they touched her, splayed her fingers out for inspection, tugged at her motorcycle jacket. She saw one child had a necklace of human fingers and toes around her neck. That was the breaking point. That child was Hailey. 

Christmasland spun like a carousel for Vic in that moment. She heard Charlie call out her name and then it all went black. 

\-----

Vic started awake in a fairly dark room. Her left eye stung like she’d taken the Triumph over the Shorter Way bridge and her throat was dry as the Saharra. At least she was warm though, so much it tried to pull her back under to sleep. On the cusp of falling asleep she heard the fire crackle to her right. It was such an alien sound that it brought Vic back to the surface of consciousness. 

Turning her head she saw a merry fire crackling in a small grated fireplace. Her boots and jacket were left to dry on a chair near it. Vic wriggled her toes experimentally to find, yes, she was barefoot and bundled up under at least two downy quilts. The bed was large and pillowy and all of it again tried to pull her back down to the sleep. But the room was covered in garish reds and greens, like she’d woken up in Santa’s inner chambers. 

That’s when it hit her who’s bed she was in and the door opened to allow it’s owner as if on cue. 

“Well good morning, sleepy head,” Charlie Manx crooned as he entered with a small tray. Along the way somewhere he’d ditched his brass buttoned jacket and was down to dress pants, a crisp dress shirt, and a fitted vest. One part of her drank the sight in, the other part was panicking like a cornered cat. “I’ve brought hot cocoa for the bed ridden.”

She started suddenly when she saw Charlie was alone. Sitting up abruptly, her left eye throbbed madly. Vic pressed the heel of her hand to it, trying to relieve the pressure. 

“W-where’s Wayne?” 

“Playing with the other children and perfectly peachy, unlike his mother,” Charlie mused. She more felt than saw him sit on the side of the bed, the clatter of the tray being set on a hard surface was lost on Vic. Mostly because Charlie pried Vic’s hand from her eye and replaced it with the most heavenly, warm sensation that made a groan of appreciation burble up from her throat. 

Charlie eased her back against the pillows, keeping the hot compress to Vic’s eyes and she didn’t even fight him. All she cared about at that point was the pain being sucked out of her eye. It was magnificent. 

“There are heads in the Christmas tree,” Vic muttered. 

“Yes there are,” Charlie agreed, sounding as if he was appeasing a small child who was speaking fever dreams. 

“Why are there heads in the Christmas tree?” Vic asked, opening her one working eye to look up at Charlie who was pouring something into the mug of hot chocolate, something that looked very familiar to Vic. “Are you spiking my hot chocolate?”

Charlie quirked a brow. “Just this once,” he admitted. “Even without using your Shorter Way, you seem to have the same effect when entering my inscape. It should pass in time.”

“You’re ignoring my question about the Christmas tree,” Vic accused lightly. She realized then she was feverish as the accusation came out almost...playful. She hadn’t felt this hard a kick back from using inscapes since she was a teen. 

Charlie turned to look down at her seriously, one hand resting on either side of her prone form. “Perhaps you won’t yell quite so much in this state,” Charlie decided. He searched her face but Vic was too comfortable to move or even argue, a flash of something in Charlie’s eyes expressed pleasure in her comfort. “The children need to eat, Victoria, just as any child does. But here in Christmasland, the only thing that appeases them is fresh meat. The fresher the better, and since I don’t have a proper way of disposal, I allow the children to do with the leftovers as they see fit.”

In her fevered mind, Vic just nodded in agreement to this statement. “Kids gotta eat.”

Some still lucid part of her brain screamed.


	10. Chapter 10

Charlie smirked at her flippant response. “If only you were this agreeable while lucid, Victoria,” he gave a dramatic sigh. “But I am like a moth to your vicious fire it would seem. For now, sleep.” 

He leaned forward to kiss Victoria’s forehead, a chaste peck compared to their lurid, bloody kiss from before. Her feverish hum of delight made his old heart thrum. Oh, if only she was so pliant and lovely towards him while in her right mind. But pulling back, the dampness of her hair against the pillow and the livid bruise around her bloody left eye when he removed the hot compress reeled in his desires quickly. Victoria would need rest, recovery from entering his inscape and staying. 

Charlie would face her temper when Victoria pulled through but it was a small price to pay. She was in Christmasland now, his domain, she was his now.

He stayed until she fell into feverish sleep then stood. There was much work to do. 

\------

The next few days ranged from wild dreams of fireworks over the Christmas Carousel and hugging Wayne and Lou in the garage at Gunbarrel. Sometimes she was 18 again and took Charlie’s offer of motherhood then and she saw the lights and children with a more understanding eye. Once she dreamed of Charlie driving his silver hammer into her back over and over again until the bones broke under his vicious blows. 

The latter she woke screaming from, twisting in imagined pain. Charlie had to hold her down against the bed that time, stroking her damp hair as she whimpered and pulled away. She must have murmured something about her nightmare because the next time she woke, Charlie had been holding her, clothed and atop the bedding. But his arms held her close, almost tenderly, though Vic trusted nothing in her fevered state. Except maybe the man’s soft breathing where his nose rested in her hair. She slipped back under like that. 

The next time there was no Charlie, but there was a young girl sitting on the foot of the bed, dressed like a Nutcracker soldier. Her skin pale, her hair and eyes dark as Charlie’s, her glare hateful. 

“You’re not my mother,” the girl seethed. 

It was hard to ignore the blade the girl was stroking on her lap, an obvious intention to harm if given the chance. But Vic was too focused on how much the girl looked like her father. 

“You’re Millie…” Her throat was dry, the day old taste of chocolate in her mouth, but she managed it. 

Millie bared her fangs. “How do you know my name?!”

Vic felt so weak, but she couldn’t be bothered to feel in danger from the girl. “You look like your dad,” she explained. “Plus I saw you...with your ma, in his head…” She was making less sense than she ought to be. But hell, Vic was trying. Vic laughed dryly. “Also recognize your voice, made me burn down the house…”

The little demon girl looked...taken aback by Vic’s words. In fact, she looked wounded. That wasn’t an expression she’d seen on any of the kids. It made her sit up a little and wince as her muscles ached. “What’s wrong?”

Millie looked conflicted before she spoke. “You saw into father’s head? You saw my mother?”

Vic nodded and she watched as Millie seemed to turn that over in her head. Then the girl nodded to herself. “I want to show you something when you are well, Vic Mcqueen. Father won’t listen to me, he won’t go with me. Maybe you can change his mind.”

“Okay, we’ll do that…” Vic agreed. But she was so tired, her eyes starting to sag again. 

“Be well soon, Vic McQueen,” were the words that followed her down to sleep as she felt the bed creak and the child leave. 

\-------

It was hard to tell how much time had passed when Vic woke without a fever. Her skin felt grimy and filmy under her clothes. Clothes, she was happy to see, had not been changed. Sweet christ, she’d be hunting down Charlie Manx ready for blood if she woke up in some frilly nightgown. 

Sitting up, her muscles were still sore, but she was able to toss off the blankets and find her feet. She tried not to think too much of frilly nightgowns. It reminded her too much of Jolene and the promise Vic had made. The promise she had broken. 

Vic had broken a lot of promises. To everyone. 

Everything over the time of her fever started to come back in hazy pieces. Millie, Charlie. Though it was hard to separate fever dreams from reality with Charlie. What part of that had been real and what exactly did Millie want her to see so badly? Vic had managed to wobble to the door of the bedroom when the memory of the Christmas Tree decorations came flashing to the forefront of her mind. 

A queasy clench of her stomach told Vic it was probably true that all she’d had in her stomach was spiked hot cocoa and she was about to lose that violently. Tearing the bedroom door open, there was blessedly a water closet right next to it and Vic proceeded to be sick. There was nothing pleasant or pretty about it. 

After emptying her stomach, Vic had her cheek pressed against the cool porcelain when a glass of water was set gently on the floor beside her. Vic’s eyes rolled up to follow the hand and see Charlie Manx standing in the doorway. 

“Sure I look real appealing now,” she muttered as she weakly reached for the glass and drained it. 

“You look like a Strong Creative paying the cost for her gift,” Charlie replied smoothly. 

“At least I don’t feed people to children, right?” Vic shot back snarkily, toasting him with the empty glass. 

The man sighed. “I see you’ve returned to your normally charming self, my joy.” Charlie leaned against the door frame, he looked tired. Vic found herself wondering why that was. 

“You look like hell,” she said matter of factly. 

Charlie’s mouth quirked at the corner as he splayed his fingers out and seemed intent on inspecting his long nails instead of looking at her. “Altering my inscape does take precious energy,” he admitted. “I will need to venture out soon, to replenish what those alterations cost.”

Vic wanted to be sick again, she knew what that meant. Charlie was going to abduct another child. 

“And there is the matter of feeding the children to take care of,” he mused further, dark eyes finally looking at Vic. She realized he was waiting for her to explode, almost goading her towards it.

And she wanted to. Vic wanted to stand up on her shaky legs and deck him, kick and punch until he fell back and maybe then she’d yell. She’d yell herself hoarse about how awful what he did was. But all that twisted and twined now with the memory with delicate, caring touches. Knowing how Charlie breathed in his sleep beside her. 

Maybe she could keep him distracted. Maybe, just maybe, she could delay the inevitable. And she wouldn’t fucking look too closely at why that was the plan. 

Vic stood on shaky legs and visited the sink silently to wash out her mouth and give herself a little dignity. She’d need it for this plan to work. 

Leaning against the sink, she finally met Charlie’s eyes that had been affixed to her the whole time, waiting. “What’d you change?” She finally asked, knowing it sounded lame. 

But Charlie smiled warmly at her. Taking her calmer demeanor hook, line and sinker. Pushing from the doorframe, Charlie came into the room to offer his hand. “Let me show you, Victoria.”


	11. Chapter 11

Vic didn’t see much of the house as they left, she was too busy preparing herself for the grisly exterior that awaited her outside. This plan would go tits up if she lost the nonexistent contents of her stomach again. 

Once the lights and sounds of the theme park assaulted her senses, Vic braced herself and looked up. Her eyes dragged to the Christmas tree subconsciously. And there her eyes stopped. Tinsel, garland and twinkling lights, but no heads. Her eyes scanned the games and shop windows. The legs, arms and hands were missing there too. Vic let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding in. 

“I...uh, like the decoration change,” Vic finally managed, thinking this is what Charlie wanted to show her. And, she had to admit, it helped her stomach from roiling. 

Charlie quirked a brow. “Oh that,” he said with a shrug. “I simply told the children it was a new game and they had it all down in a snap. But it’s not what I wish to show you, my joy.” 

The nicknames were starting to feel second nature now. To the point, she didn’t even blink when he did it. Vic wasn’t sure if that was the pay off of persistence or if she truly didn’t mind it anymore. 

Charlie steered her towards the row of little shops. A chocolatery, a costume store, a toy shop, even a little armory (which was officially Vic’s least favorite shop), and one shop near the end that Vic didn’t remember seeing before. Granted, she hadn’t exactly been clear headed then. But she’d sworn there’d only been the four buildings. But here was a fifth, and as they rounded the front ,even the lacquered sign looked new. 

The little cottage style store was the same cheery Christmas village colors as the others. But the sign proclaimed it as  _ Victoria’s Art School .  _

Charlie watched Victoria carefully. Watched her blink, her hazel eyes growing wet as she read the sign over and over again. 

“What?” Her voice sounded faint as she shook her head. “Why?” Victoria finally asked, turning to look at Charlie. 

Her expression hurt. It was one Charlie knew all too well. The lost confusion of a soul who did not think they deserved something good. He’d seen it in many child’s eyes. Never hers, till now. 

“Did you truly think I would let nothing be yours?” Charlie asked her honestly. 

Victoria seemed to have no answer for him as her eyes swept back to the little shop. 

“Would you like to go in?” He asked, that soft nudge for her to accept this gift. Victoria nodded, almost absently and Charlie opened the wooden door for her to enter. 

Inside, he’d left no stone unturned. Rows of easels and stools would accommodate at least 20 of the children at a time. The art supplies ranged from finger paints to oils at each station. The larger easel area at the front of this class configuration held more advanced, unusual art tools. It was a warm, welcoming building in bleached woods. He’d kept the Christmas theme out of this building, purposefully. It was what it needed to be. A retreat. 

Charlie hung back as she traversed the interior. Her fingers gliding over empty canvases and clean bottles filled with fresh paint brushes. She almost floated in Charlie’s eyes. 

He took one of the stools while Victoria stopped at the easel clearly meant for her. Oil and acrylic bottles were brushed with her fingers. She picked up a brush and stroked the bristles with her thumb. It was all hypnotic to watch until Victoria’s fingers gripped the brush hard enough to almost break it. 

“I don’t get it,” she said roughly. And when Charlie’s eyes found her face, her expression was twisted into pained confusion. “How can you…” Victoria shook her head violently. “How can you be who you are, what you are and still do…” she gestured to the little school house. “All this? How can I look at Wayne and know he’ll never be the same from being here, but you’re holding me to keep nightmares away?” Her eyes stung him, she was so lost in what she was feeling. “How is that fair?”

“Fair has nothing to do with it, my joy,” Charlie said as he stood, moved towards her slowly, as he had when the Wraith stopped at her command. As if she’d dart away. 

But Victoria held her ground, watching him, her eyes begging him to stop. But he would not dare listen in that moment. Not when he could see her shaking with what she felt. “You’ll accept my gift, won’t you?” He asked finally, cupping her chin to lift it. 

“Are you changing me?” She asked, light accusation in her tone. Her eyes defiant.

“I think I might,” Charlie admitted. Her eyes flashed. “But not in the way that you fear, Victoria. Or perhaps you do fear seeing me as anything other than a monster,” he said the last more to himself than to her. 

Victoria’s eyes widened a fraction, it was an answer in itself. 

Charlie huffed lightly at that look and leaned down to kiss her trembling lips. 

She was warm as summer in the comfortable chill of Christmasland and she was receptive. A mixture that was intoxicating. The kiss was a slow, curious thing without the heady mix of blood. Victoria’s lips were hesitant, trembling, Charlie’s were gentle, coaxing. Charlie would not have his work be undone by haste. 

Pulling Victoria’s hands to his chest, he heard the paintbrush clatter to the ground when her hands roamed. Her touch traveled and Charlie growled into the kiss, finally taking charge of it and sliding his hand into those unruly curls of hers to deepen it. Gods, did she respond in kind, a hum from her throat driving him a little giddy. 

Then the bell on the little school house door went off. 

They broke apart in time to see at least ten of the children rushing in, seeing what was going on and hightailed it back out in a giggling mess. Some of them started to sing-song a familiar tune that spelled out the word ‘kissing’. 

“I need air,” Victoria suddenly said and before Charlie could say a word, she had darted out the door in the children’s wake, slamming it behind her. 

Charlie felt cold without her summer heat. 

Then he felt cold in another way, an alarming way. 

Charlie instinctively patted his pockets, reached in every nook and cranny of his coat. The Wraith’s keys were missing. 


	12. Chapter 12

She heard the art school door bang open just as she got around a ride structure to hide. 

“ **VICTORIA!** ” 

When Charlie shouted her name, the moon in the sky shouted it as well, shaking the ground hard. And for the first time, Vic looked up in the sky and saw that the moon was a pockmarked version of Charlie’s older face. 

She clamped a hand over her own mouth to stop a sound of surprise coming out. And god, she could still feel the cool press of his mouth against hers. 

The plan had worked, better than she’d expected really. But something in her chest ached that it had. 

_ ‘Or perhaps you do fear seeing me as anything other than a monster’ _

She could feel his hand in her hair, the warmth of the little school house he’d made for her. He’d hunt her down now for sure and there was no amount of regret in her that would fucking stop that result. 

So Vic bolted. She ran, using the rides as cover as Charlie went on the hunt while mixed emotions swirled in her head. Like some twisted game of hide and seek, Vic hunted for Wayne while Charlie hunted for her. 

Gaggles of children ran by here and there, busy playing their own games. Then she spotted a little boy in an astronauts outfit and knew deep down it was Wayne. Vic didn’t question it, she just bolted for him and picked him up in one go. 

“Mommy!” Wayne giggled, flipping up his astronauts visor. “You caught me, you win!”

“That’s good, Bats,” Vic said quickly, looking around to make sure the coast was clear and dangled the Wraith keys in front of his face. “Wanna go for a ride?”

Wayne stared at the keys with a frown and then at Vic. “We aren’t supposed to play with Mr. Manx’s car,” he said with a pout, almost scolding his mother. 

Vic set him down and crouched in front of him. “I know that but...well, we’re gonna get him a present. Yeah, something really nice to thank him for Christmasland. Would you like to help pick it out?”

Her heart was thundering in her chest as she waited, watched Wayne ponder the idea before he lit up. “Yes, let’s get Mr. Manx a present!” 

Vic hugged her son in relief, pulling back with a fake smile plastered on her face. “Okay good. So, it’s a surprise, so we gotta be real quiet, okay? Can you do that for mommy?”

Wayne gave her a thumbs up and a grin. It was better than nothing as she grabbed his hand and ducked low, Wayne mimicking her as they wove through buildings and scaffolding towards The Wraith. 

When they got to the ice maze, Charlie passed by them and Vic had to cover Wayne’s mouth before the boy called out. 

“Victoria!” Charlie shouted into the park, his face a mask of fury from where Vic could see. “I know what you’re planning to do. I promise you it won’t work. Wayne has been in Christmasland, there’s no going back for a child once they pass through it’s gates.”

He waited, looked around as if he thought it would pull her from hiding. Some ultimatum Vic had no possible way of passing up. But she held still, held Wayne’s mouth closed and let out a small whimper herself that she tried to muffle into her own shoulder. The satisfied smirk slipped from Charlie’s face when he received no answer. 

“Victoria!”

Vic picked Wayne up and ran the opposite way, dug her booted heels into the snow and made for the front of Christmasland, where the Wraith waited. 

There was a strip of open thorofare between them and the Wraith and Vic didn’t have a choice. They had to book it. 

Some of the kids spotted them running. 

“Mommy’s playing tag!” “Mommy’s it!” They all cheered and started to take after her and Wayne. It was a living nightmare as more of the kids joined the chase, weapons raised. 

Trying to skid to a stop in front of the drivers door was a miscalculation on Vic’s part and her feet went out from under her, she landed hard on her hip and curled around Wayne who was bright eyed and laughing. 

“Mommy, we need to hurry or they’ll win,” he enthused. 

Vic nodded numbly. “Trying, Bats,” she muttered and got to her feet, reaching for the drivers side door, she found it wouldn’t budge. 

The Wraith started to blow her horn repeatedly, louder than the Christmas music and turning to look, Vic saw Charlie rounding the corner, shoulders hunched forward, brow furrowed in anger. 

“No, no, no, come on!” She pleaded, trying to get the door open. “You got me here, you take me and Wayne out!” Giving up on brute force, Vic dug the keys out of her pocket. She tried to get them in the door, but her fingers were shaking too much to slot the key home. They fell from her shaking fingers into the snow and Vic dove at the ground, digging around for them blindly. At last her numb fingers closed around the metal. 

That same moment a clawed hand grabbed a fistful of curls and forcibly dragged Vic to her feet. Her hands locked on Charlie’s wrist to relieve the pressure on her hair. But Charlie tugged, throwing Vic off balance and back against his chest. Where two impossibly strong arms, like metal bands, held her fast. Vic let out a wordless, frustrated scream and kicked out, her heel making contact with the Wraith’s driver door. 

Charlie grunted in pain and squeezed her ribs tight enough that Vic wheezed for air, forcing all fight out of her. 

“That. Is.  _ Enough.” _ Charlie hissed in her ear. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next two chapters are about to get wild, smut warning!

Vic went slack in his arms, still trying to catch her breath. 

“Father’s it!” “Come play with us, Father!” The children started to chime and cheer, even Wayne, who never really knew the stakes of their little escapade. Would he have even cared?

“Mother and Father need to have a  _ chat _ ,” Charlie told the children flippantly. “I declare young Wayne ‘it’ in my absence.”

Wayne whooped and turned tail to run away, the children following in short order. It only took a few seconds for the main plaza of Christmasland to empty of all inhabitants besides Charlie and Vic. 

That’s when her struggles started anew and Charlie growled. He turned to forcibly drag Vic from the front gates of Christmasland and towards the little cottage she’d woken up in. Boots kicking in the snow, Vic did not make it an easy task. But try as she might, he was stronger, much stronger. 

“You are testing what little patience I have with you, Victoria,” Charlie grit out, kicking the door open and setting the hellcat free in the entryway. 

Vic stumbled, but found her footing quickly. Turning, she let out another wordless shout, reeling back her fist with all intent to connect with Charlie’s jaw. But a cool hand caught her wrist and a moment later Vic McQueen’s back hit the wall with a sound thwack, Charlie Manx pressed firmly against her front. 

“I said,” Charlie intoned carefully as he caught her other wrist and pinned them both to the wall above her head. “Enough.”

It was like a switch flipped in that moment. Charlie saw it in the way those hazel eyes dilated and darkened. But his surprise slowly melted into a dark grin, looking on his captive with new plans in mind. 

“I normally wouldn’t reward such deceitful actions,” he mused lazily, eyes drifting from her swan throat to her full lips, then back up to those eyes that betrayed her so wantonly. “But perhaps a firm hand is all that’s needed with a woman such as yourself, Victoria.”

“What are you going on about?” Vic demanded, chest heaving as she tried to stamp down the heat that pooled in her belly unbidden. Like this, she could feel the whole length of him pressed against her from chest to hip, his coat brushing against her legs. 

Charlie canted his head to the side, brow furrowing at her little question. “Has no one ever given you what you needed, my joy? Have all men treated you as a fragile bauble, to break at the merest pressure.” With that he shifted to press his thigh up between her legs and lifted. 

Vic hissed, hips bucking at the pressure, her eyes going darker and wide at the electric contact. “Charlie…” she tried to find the words, to say something, to stop the speeding train that was this moment. 

But she saw just how dark, almost inky black his eyes were in kind now. He exhaled heavily through his nose as he shifted his grip, so both of her wrists were caught in one of his hands. Vic jolted as Charlie’s thigh was replaced with his hand, cupping Vic through her jeans and pressing down with the pad of his thumb. 

Vic could no more help the gasp that parted her lips than she could the way her body shuddered. 

Charlie nuzzled into her throat, drinking in her sounds, the way she trembled. He’d been content to wait before. Wait for Victoria to find her place here, find him suitable as partner and husband. He’d been content before he saw those eyes of hers and how they begged. 

_ Whore, _ he might have called her in a different situation. But Victoria had looked at him in that way. Not some random boy or needy man. That look was for Charlie alone, and he would collect. 

“Should I dole out your punishment, my sweet girl?” Charlie murmured in her ear, thumb circling lazily to illicit another sharp gasp. 

It was wrong. It was fucked in the head. But his hand moved and Vic’s head swam under with new shockwaves of pleasure. A whimper slipped from Vic’s throat and she felt as much as heard Charlie inhale sharply against her hair. 

She needed it. 

“Charlie,  _ please _ …” 

His mouth descended on hers hard, pushing Vic’s head back against the wall with a thud. It was vicious and demanding. Charlie did not ask, not like his previous kisses. This time he took. Vic opened to him with a deep throated moan. But when she tried to reciprocate, Charlie’s hand left the junction of her thighs to grab a fist full of curls to Vic still. 

The loss made Vic whimper and she felt the smile twist Charlie’s lips as he nipped at her lower lip with too sharp teeth. She hissed at the sting and tasted copper in the kiss shortly after. 

Vic was not used to being denied where sex was concerned. Using the strength of Charlie’s grip on her wrists, Vic swung her legs up around his hips. She reeled him in, flush hip to hip. And what she felt did not disappoint. Neither did the groan it pulled from Charlie’s throat. 

“Wicked thing,” Charlie purred against her kiss reddened lips. 

She had no warning when Charlie let go of her wrists and she wrapped her arms around his neck to not fall. But Charlie had one hand at her back, the other cupped her ass as he pushed away from the wall and walked them. Not to the bedroom, but a small parlor. 

She did not stay in his arms for long either. Once in front of the fireplace there, Charlie pried her free and set a now shaken Vic McQueen on the ground. Charlie himself, took a comfortable seat on the couch before her. 

Vic made to follow, but Charlie held his hand up for her to stop. And for whatever reason, Vic obeyed.

“As I said, Victoria, this is a punishment. And we’ll treat it as such,” he hummed darkly, his eyes trailing up and down Victoria’s body as he uttered one purring word. “Strip.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second half of the wonderful smut

“Wha-”

Charlie interrupted her surprise. “If I need repeat myself, I will leave the room, Victoria.” His tone brooked no argument, gentle as it was. “And I will leave you to your own devices. Do you understand?”

Vic nodded, but that didn’t stop her shaking all the same. 8 years she’d been with Lou Carmody and as sweet and attentive as he was, the furthest they’d gotten into kink was a pair of fuzzy cuffs and a feather tickler. God bless him, Lou had tried to fulfill that for her, but it just wasn’t in him. 

Now every motion felt like an eon as Vic rolled her shoulders back to pull off her jacket. The leather felt like a caress as it slid over her skin and down to the floor. It was just the crackle of the fire behind Vic and the sound of hers and Charlie’s breathing here. Like they were the only two people in the world in this moment. 

She crouched down and fumbled with her boots, slipping them and socks off before her bare feet were on the carpet, toes curling in the soft carpet beneath. Her fingers landed on the top button of her jeans and that’s when she finally looked at Charlie. 

Vic found Charlie’s eyes fixed on her, unwavering and hungry. The tremor of heat between her legs thrummed anew. He’d slipped out of his coat and shoes, almost as if mimicking Vic’s movements. Which made her fingers tremble on her jeans. But she found the need stronger than her fears and started to pop the button and drag down the zipper. 

She watched Charlie mimic her without looking away. Belt slipping free, button and zipper. But as Vic slid jeans and panties down her thighs, Charlie did not mimic her. Instead she stopped, eyes wide with hunger of her own as Charlie pulled his cock free, taking himself in hand. His strip had ended. 

“Don’t stop, Victoria…” Charlie warned, his voice husky and low. 

Vic could do nothing but obey that tone, watching Charlie slowly stroke himself as she kicked away panties and jeans. As willing as she was to obey though, Vic McQueen was impatient. She undid the bra beneath her shirt and pulled both off at once, letting her breasts fall free against her chest, the heat of the fire warming her naked back. 

Charlie chuckled at her impatient, but it was hard to miss the way he inhaled sharply at the sight of her fully naked body. The tattoos on her arms showed the full scope of their art and where they snaked along her back or sides at times. She was no longer 18 , but her hips and breasts were full and ached to be touched. 

Charlie had no intention of making this woman wait as he beckoned her forward with a smirk. This beautiful creature that approached him, he could not help but grasp her full hips once they were within reach and pull her down. Victoria’s knees landed on either side of his hips, her hands on his shoulders. He wasted no time to nip one of her tempting breasts, gentle, so gentle. He had no intention to draw blood. 

Victoria hissed, arching her back as his hand slid upwards to support the bend of her spine. Soft skin and want, all bendable beneath his hands and mouth. But Charlie had something very specific in mind. 

“Victoria…” He almost sing songed at her, pulling the woman’s attention back to focus. He could not help the quirk of his mouth at seeing just how blown her irises were. They had not even properly begun. 

“Mmmm?” She hummed in question. 

Lovely. 

“You’re going to ride me, Victoria,” he said then. “Ride as you would your knife. And when you come, my joy, I’ll take you hard and make you scream again.” 

Vic’s breath hitched, her sex clenched at the very idea. She could see the promise in his eyes, Charlie Manx was a man of his word and there was no doubt it wouldn’t change in this arena. So she lowered her hips, felt the pull of her thighs as Charlie directed her downwards. 

They let out a joined moan, Vic’s laced with a hiss. There’d been no prep and gods he was bigger than she expected. But it burned in the best way and when Vic was fully seated on Charlie, a soft whimper pulled from her throat unbidden. 

Charlie’s hand stroked at her back to soothe the initial seating. His other hand squeezing her bare thigh as he nipped her earlobe. “Time to ride, Victoria,” he breathed. His nose brushed across Vic’s throat before he stopped at her shoulder and Vic jolted as his teeth sank into the soft flesh there. 

Pain and pleasure mixing got Vic’s hips moving at last, her hips rolling slowly at first. It pulled soft sounds from them both and speed built up like a fire as blood started to slide down from Vic’s shoulder where Charlie’s mouth was latched. 

Charlie’s hands pet her, caressed across her waist and breast. But he did not help the motion of her hips, even as they drove him insane. It was her penance, her punishment to keep the beat herself. And oh, did she do her part. She clenched hot and tight around him, her blood sweet on his tongue as he licked the bite clean with a groan. His nails trailed so gentle but left red lines across her back all the same as Victoria moved. 

Vic’s hands found their way into Charlie’s hair, holding tight as she started to bounce up and down, matching the wild beat of her heart as something built inside fast and hot. She wasn’t going to make it long. 

“I’m not going...going to…” Vic panted, trying to get the words out as she drove herself towards the wild climax just out of reach. Charlie silenced her with a harsh kiss then, the taste of her own blood a sharp contrast. 

Any complaint was driven from her mind though when Charlie’s thumb found her clit and Vic screamed out against his demanding mouth. He grunted and finally grabbed firm hold of her hips. He twisted them, pressing Vic’s back against the couch cushions. While she shuddered and jerked from her own orgasm, Charlie drove into her anew. Vic’s head jerked back against the cushions as Charlie forced her thighs up to the woman’s chest and sank deeper still with each hard thrust. 

There was nothing gentle now as he fucked her hard and fast into the couch. Each thrust took Vic’s breath away as her nails dug into the armrest for purchase. Charlie moved above her, a man possessed as he panted and grunted. His hair wild and eyes fixed possessively as he grabbed hold of her wrists and pinned them in place. He dove down for another hard kiss and Vic returned it, feeling the moment she broke the skin of his lip with her teeth and that heady peppermint laced blood touched her tongue. 

It drove her over the edge again and Charlie came with her over the edge with a deep throated moan he buried into her hair.


	15. Chapter 15

Vic woke to the sound of a faucet being turned off somewhere, water rattling in a pipe as it was cut short. It was too comfortable where she was to move. Her body was lank and spent, a satisfying soreness between her thighs. Pulling the soft wool that was draped over her higher, she expected to smell Lou’s familiar soap and motor oil. Instead it was motor oil and pine.

It was a suddenly rousing realization that she was naked beneath Charlie Manx’s coat. The memories of her escape attempt followed shortly after by sex had Vic completely awake but her head felt foggy all the same. Sitting up with Charlie’s coat wrapped around her shoulders, Vic found she’d fallen asleep on the parlor couch, the fireplace burnt down to embers. However long she’d been asleep, all her clothes seemed to have gone missing as well. 

“I thought you would sleep a little longer,” a familiar voice crooned from the entryway. Charlie was leaning against the open doorway, in the process of rolling his sleeves up to the elbow. In fact he looked completely put together, hair combed back into place, clothes corrected. Nothing like the last time Vic had seen him, hovering over her…

Vic abruptly looked towards the fire, her face a blotchy red. 

Charlie chuckled as he came around the couch and crouched in front of Vic, it was an odd angle, to look down at Charlie Manx. He took the liberty to rub her legs through the wool of his coat. It felt...strangely more intimate than any other touch before. 

“I’ve run a bath for you, my joy. I think it best we wash away the day, don’t you?” 

There was something about the tone of his voice, something soft and cheerful. Unlike the orders he’d given during their frenzy, he was treating her like glass now. Something that was alien between them that made Vic nod her head. Charlie beamed at her and stood to offer his hand. 

Vic felt like she might still be asleep honestly as he led her towards the fresh smelling, heat filled bathroom. A white clawfoot tub with an old fashioned wire rack for soaps and sponges across its width sat steaming and full waited for her. Dreams could be weirder, she supposed, or...domestic. 

Charlie’s hands reached for the lapels of his coat, tugging gently to coax if off of her. Vic immediately grasped the edges of the coat to keep it closed, turning to look at the man who hadn’t simply left her to it. 

The man held his hands up in surrender, one brow quirked. “It’s nothing I haven’t already seen, Victoria.” He reasoned. 

Vic scoffed, but it was clear the man wasn’t moving. So with a defiant upward tilt of her head, Vic shrugged the coat off and held it out to him. Charlie for all his determination to have her stripped again, did not let his eyes rove. Instead, his eyes stayed fixed on hers as he accepted the coat and gestured towards the bath. He turned his back to hang the coat up and Vic took that moment to quickly slip into the bath. 

Vic couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips as she sank beneath the hot water. Steam washed over her face and made sweat prickle at her temples. Holding her breath, Vic let herself slip entirely underwater, little air bubbles breaking the surface as the water pressed against her ears. It surrounded her, for a moment, nothing else existed but that comforting pressure in her chest and ears. 

Eyes opening under water, Vic saw the rippling image of Charlie smirking down at her through the water’s surface. Narrowing her eyes, Vic broke the surface with a deep inhale of fresh air and turned her head to glare at Charlie. 

He’d found a small stool and was sitting at one end of the tub where her back rested, a bottle in hand. Charlie gave the bottle a little shake. “May I wash your hair?”

The offer surprised Vic, enough that her mouth opened and closed for a moment where nothing came out. She tried again. “Is that like your fetish or something?” She finally asked. 

Charlie actually laughed. Not a condescending one, but an honest, surprised laugh. 

“No, no. Not at all.” He studied her face for a moment and reached forward to touch the bite mark which made Vic inhale a little sharply. It still stung. “An apology for this, perhaps.”

“It took two to tango earlier,” Vic said quickly. Because she was still angry at him for many things, but she wanted what they did just as badly as Charlie had. 

“Even so,” Charlie dismissed. “This was too far,” he said, circling his finger around the bite. 

Vic shivered as the sting became something more pleasant, her legs moving up to press against her breasts to cover them somewhat. 

“Okay…” Vic finally said, quietly. 

Charlie’s fingers left her shoulder then. 

She heard the pop of a cap and his hands lathering up the soap before his fingers finally slid into Vic’s hair. She couldn’t help that her eyes fell shut as her back relaxed against the tub and into his hands as they worked through her curls. 

Charlie took his time with the task, almost obsessed with the act as he massaged Victoria’s scalp slowly, changing angle when her head pressed back into his touch. It was difficult not to feel a rush of need as she sighed when he worked at the base of her skull, kneading away the knots he found where her neck slid downwards. Charlie was careful not to linger too long. Instead using his nails to comb through her wet curls and finally lathering her hair fully, feeling with satisfaction how her hair was starting to gleam and soap under his ministrations. Her body seemed to melt into the edge of the tub, towards him. 

“Slide down,” Charlie urged gently as he cupped the back of Victoria’s skull and eased her down under the water. Her eyes fluttered open to look at him for a moment, lazy gaze that it was. Then she closed them again and followed his direction, grasping the sides of the tub and easing halfway under the water. 

He was respectful and did not spend more than a moment looking at the whole of her exposed form like that, instead focusing on his task to rid her curls of soap with sure motions. 

It only took a few moments before he had Victoria surface once more, combing her hair back one more time before he reluctantly slipped his fingers free. 

Vic felt the loss once his fingers were gone and realized her body had reacted to his touch. She hugged her legs back to her chest and looked at Charlie over her shoulder. “Thank you,” she said far too meekly for her liking. 

It was such a delicate moment. 

“I need to gather food for the children tomorrow. Will I be able to trust you to behave in my absence?” 

And like that, the delicate bubble popped. Vic tensed, turning in the water, no longer caring about her nudity. Her eyes narrowed. 

“Excuse me?!” She demanded. 

Charlie returned her glare almost immediately. “After your behavior earlier, I think-”

“No, I am not one of your kids who you can tell to behave, Charlie!” Vic snapped. “And when you mean food, you mean some poor guy you find on a joy ride?” She demanded. 

She watched as Charlie straightened, chest puffing at her challenge. He stood in one smooth movement and Vic almost instinctively slid away from him, moving towards the faucet end. 

“I will not let the children starve to appease you, Victoria.”


	16. Chapter 16

“I will not let the children starve to appease you, Victoria.”

“I’m not asking you to! Why do they need to eat people?” Vic demanded, not letting it drop just because Charlie was attempting intimidation. 

Charlie leaned down, his hands curling around the end of the tub. “This conversation is over, Victoria. Clean yourself, dress yourself. I have work to tend to,” he snapped with finality. 

Vic didn’t have a chance to have the last word in this as Charlie stormed out, taking his coat with him. The bathroom door slammed in his wake. Leaving Vic alone in the slowly cooling bath water. 

Leaving the inviting warmth of the cottage, Charlie grit his teeth in frustration as he pulled on his coat with a sharp jerk. Almost immediately he was greeted by her scent. It made Charlie stop in his tracks, the twinkle of the Sleigh Coaster not even enough to distract the man from his thoughts. Flipping up one lapel, he brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. 

It was almost enough for Charlie to consider going back inside, try and reason with Victoria. But he knew her anger, he knew her inability to see Christmasland and the children as they were. He’d already had to change much just to appease her. There was only so far he was willing to go. So Charlie’s feet led him further into Christmasland rather than back to Victoria. 

Vic felt lost for a moment as she slipped almost fully under the water again. The last who knows how many days had been a rollercoaster. God knows how long she’d been out with her fever and then there was her waking hours in Christmasland to contend with. 

Nowhere on the trip from the lake house to Gunbarrel could Vic have imagined this scenario. Not only the softness of it, but the gut wrenching reality of what her son and the other children would need to survive. It was a twisted coincidence that Vic’s stomach took that moment to remind her that she’d only had sticky sweet hot chocolate since arriving in Christmasland herself. She sank further down into the bath with something akin to shame. 

She hadn’t properly checked on Wayne. _Was he hungry?_

Scrubbing herself clean, Vic made a note to scavenge through the cottage for something to sustain her and Wayne. But getting out of the bath was an entirely different situation. As she still didn’t know where her clothes were. 

Hunting around the cottage for her clothes in a fluffy towel was quite possibly the most embarrassed Vic McQueen had felt since arriving in Christmasland. But there was nothing in the parlor, nor the little room that looked designed for laundry. It wasn’t until she went into the small bedroom that she saw clothes laid out on the now neatly made bed. 

She stared at them for a moment before they truly processed. 

Charlie had picked clothing out for her. 

And if she’d had others, she would have worn them filthy and grimy to spite him. But he seemed to have disposed of any other option for her besides this or a towel. Vic debated the towel. 

Laid out on the bed like a present was a white silk undershirt , laid atop a flowy beige top and wide legged satin pants in black, it had buttons up the front of the high waist, very much like Charlie's coat. Speaking of a coat, he had left her a high collar, close fitted bolero jacket in the same hue as his own. It screamed 1920’s and Vic was afraid to touch it, honestly. So used to dirty overalls and leather jackets, this was outside her realm of fashion. But it was what she had and thankfully he’d left her lingerie, which...that was going to be a conversation later. 

The clothes felt silky and clean going over her skin and they fit. Vic wondered if that was more due to his powers within his inscape or if Charlie had planned for this moment many years ago. It gave her a mixture of feelings Vic didn’t really know how to process. So instead she went in search of food. 

The little kitchen was easy to find, she just followed the smell of cinnamon sticks that Vic spotted hanging over the old fashioned stove. Spotting the ice box, because that was definitely not a modern fridge, Vic gripped the handle and prepared herself for a gruesome interior. After all, if the kids were eating people, who’s to say Charlie wasn’t as well. 

But pulling the door open, she found a bag. Just a single large bag. It had the name of the local grocery store in Gunbarrel on it and Vic sighed in relief. When he’d gone out, Vic didn’t know, but she happily opened the bag to find normal food inside. Packaged meats and cheeses, jellies and peanut butter, what looked to be eggs and milk. At least a few meals worth of basic foods. 

_ Yay, no cannibalism. _

Her gut clenched though, thinking about Wayne. So she quickly made herself a sandwich and woofed it down with the bread she found in a bread box of all things. Then she made at least two pbj sandwiches and stuffed them in a brown sack to take with her. It was time she found her son and talked. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After that tiny filler, we get back on track with the story!

Vic felt oddly warm in her new clothes the moment she stepped outside the cottage. As flimsy and thin as they seemed, she felt bundled up against the eternal bite of winter that blanketed Christmasland. It felt odd being out on her own, after the escape attempt. That in mind, she gave the Wraith a wide berth, especially when the car flashed it’s headlights at her, as if in greeting. 

Vic was having a hell of a day, the last thing she needed to do was deal with the sentient car. 

Vic took her time, almost strolled, down the mainstreet of Christmasland as it snowed. Some kids ran past here and there, chasing each other or headed towards one of the rides. Otherwise, they didn’t really pay her any mind. If she didn’t look close enough, they were almost like normal kids, tearing it up at an amusement park. Except...they weren’t just kids anymore, were they? They were supposed to be her kids. Hers and Charlie’s. 

She stopped and stared at a tiny blond figure peering into the windows of the art school. 

The figure turned and grinned at her with twin rows of shark teeth. “Heya, Weasel,” little Haley Smith chimed at her, still 12 years old, eternally. Vic hadn’t heard the affectionate sarcasm in that title in 8 years. Not since before her first phone call from Christmasland. 

Vic stopped, her boots crunching in the snow with five or so feet still between them. “Hey, Maggot,” she finally managed to say numbly. 

Haley hopped off the art school stoop and walked carefully toward Vic. “Mr. Manx said I need to call you mother now, is that true?”

Vic let out a breathy laugh, not sure if she was ready for this yet. “Weasel works just fine. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

It was like facing all her teenage failures in the face of one oblivious little girl. Haley would have been twenty by now, except she wasn’t. Just like her, Wayne would never age, never go through his awkward teens or find a college they’d barely afford to throw his dreams on. 

“Ow!” A sharp pain brought Vic to the present. Haley had pinched her. 

“You were miles away,” Haley muttered sourly. “You didn’t even hear what I asked.”

Vic shook her head to clear the spiral of vicious thoughts. “Yeah, yeah I was. Sorry. What’d you ask, squirt?”

“I was wondering…” Haley kicked a pile of snow, looking unsure. “Will you teach me art again? Mr. Manx said if we wanted to use the art supplies we needed your permission first. ”

Vic blinked, looking up at the closed school and back at Haley. “With all the rides and games to play?” She asked. 

Haley shrugged. “I can do that any day. I miss drawing with you, Weasel.”

Maybe for the first time, she saw the girl she once knew. She forgot her urgency to get past the little blond and instead held out her hand. “Let’s see what you still know then, Maggot.”

A warm smile slowly formed on Vic’s lips as she felt a small, cold hand slip into hers. They headed towards the school together. High above, the moon watched them with something like relief on it’s half formed features. 

The schoolhouse was just as warm and bright as when Vic had entered it last. The memory of kissing and tricking Charlie was just as fresh in her mind, but she pushed that aside while unbuttoning her jacket and swapping it for a clean smock. She nodded her head towards the line of children’s smocks and Haley grinned as she bounded over to pick one for herself. 

It felt...good. 

Vic had spent so much time channeling her art through airbrush and motorcycles that gathering paintbrushes and paint rekindled some spark. Her hand itched to paint. But she reigned it in, just a moment more as she picked up charcoal instead and sat next to Haley. 

“Let’s start with something you see everyday, something you can bring details out fast, okay?” Vic asked. 

Vic reached for charcoal, but she handed Haley a pencil. The girl pouted but Vic just ruffled her icy hair. “Gotta clean up those lines when you wanna, right?”

Haley rolled her eyes, but immediately started to draw what looked like the Christmasland ferris wheel if the large circles and tiny carriages were anything to go off of. Vic gave a few suggestions here and there, but after a while, she let Haley get absorbed. It gave Vic a moment to finally look at her own blank canvas. Her mind reeling for what her ‘everyday’ had been. Not the inside of the garage or the house. Not even Lou came to mind. Her hand started to move and unbeknownst to Vic, the lights in the little school house started to flicker now and then as she drew. 

Charlie was leading a small merry band of the children through the ice maze. The first to get caught would be it in Carve the Goose. A game he was introducing Wayne to but thought better of having the bloody game in view of Victoria. He was keeping Wayne ahead of the others with a little cheating to be fair. The boy needed the advantage for his first go through the ice maze and taking a bloody Wayne McQueen to his mother at this point in time seemed unwise, even to Charlie Manx. 

Charlie was chasing his tail in a way, keeping himself distracted to let Victoria have her space. Had he spied on her through the moon? Of course. Her reunion with Haley had been slightly orchestrated, but it had gone better than Charlie had expected. And it had gotten Victoria to her paints and canvas. Perhaps if she felt at home somewhere, she would accept things faster. 

Wayne tugged at his hand and they darted just behind a wall as some of the children dashed past with Daniel in the lead, his little tomahawk raised high. Charlie held a finger to his smiling lips and Wayne covered his giggling mouth. His new child was so easily entertained. If only his mother was so easy to please. 

Suddenly there was a high pitched whine that tore through the air of Christmasland and Charlie looked up sharply to see a light streak up high. It seemed to disappear for a moment, silence following the strange sound. And then the sky was alight as colors burst across the darkness with a crack, making even the moon stare in wide eyed amazement for a moment. 

“Fireworks!” Wayne crowed with delight, holding Charlie’s hand, the boy pointed up as more whining filled the night along with more streaks that turned into multi colored bursts across the sky. 

In the art school, Victoria fingers were smudged with charcoal across her fingers and palms as she almost blindly drew, blended and shaded across her canvas. Memories blending into other memories as she worked across a now filled canvas. 

“Wow!” Haley’s exclamation broke Vic from her drawing as the girl got up and had her lead covered fingers pressed against the glass windows, looking up. 

That’s when Vic heard the telltale whine of a firework going off. On instinct she got up and was out the door, looking up at the sky of mainstreet as it filled with children whooping and cheering as each new explosion lit the night. Vic found herself laughing with them, seeing the reds and greens scatter here and there. She felt Haley squeeze her hand just as Vic caught sight of Charlie breaking through the tiny crowd, eyes wide with something like...wonder?

Vic blinked at him, raising a questioning brow at him as the man approached them. “You didn’t have to set off fireworks to get my attention,” Vic said, her voice oddly light and almost teasing. “But it puts me in a better mood to talk.”

The fireworks lit up her eyes and the smile on her lips. It was a beautiful sight, but it was the canvas behind Victoria that caught the bewildered Charlie Manx’s attention. Grasping her arms, he turned the woman for her to look back inside the schoolhouse. 

“I don’t believe it was my doing, my joy,” Charlie said carefully. 

Vic was surprised by the turn, but her eyes immediately fixed on what had gotten Charlie’s stunned attention. It was her charcoal drawing. A summer night with a sky full of fireworks.


	18. Chapter 18

The charcoal slipped from Vic’s fingers and if on cue, the sky above Christmasland was suddenly quiet. A collective moan of disappointment ran through the children, but Vic was focused on walking back into the schoolhouse, her fingers grazing the drawing. 

“How?” She finally asked, looking to Charlie who was at her elbow, studying the drawing himself. 

“I don’t know,” he said carefully. “This is my inscape. You shouldn’t be able to effect change here. Especially without your knife.”

It was information that cut deeper than Vic expected. The lack of her Triumph had been something like a dull, distant ache. The mention of it now caused a sliver of pain. “I’ve never been able to do something like this before,” she said numbly. 

Touching the black explosions across the canvas, she felt Charlie watching her. It sent a shiver down her spine. It made Vic feel like a threat. And why wouldn’t he see it that way? Christmasland was Charlie’s, he was no doubt bent on protecting it. And Vic hadn’t been the most endearing person, so perhaps that now made her a liability…

Her thoughts were cut off by an arm snaking around Vic’s waist from behind. Charlie pulled her back to his chest, his smell of motor oil and pine falling around her. It was...comforting. It made her shivers stop. 

“We’ll figure out the answer to this puzzle,” Charlie murmured into her hair, but she heard the slight steel under his voice all the same. “Grab your coat, Victoria. We are going to see a friend.”  
With that Charlie released her and made for the door, Vic close on his heels swinging on her coat. “What do you mean? I thought you didn’t want me leaving Christmasland,” Vic argued. “I don’t want to leave Wayne alone here.”

Charlie gave an exasperated sigh, stopping halfway to the Wraith to turn and acknowledge her. 

“Wayne will be perfectly safe here with Millie and the other children. They are capable of looking after themselves.” He moved towards Vic and grasped her elbows. “But this is unprecedented, my dear. We cannot have your gifts threatening Christmasland, so we must understand them better.”

Vic wasn’t exactly keen on blowing Christmasland up with her and Wayne in it, so she let Charlie lead her towards the Wraith. 

A young girl in a nutcracker uniform detached herself from the crowd of children that were now dispersing to new games. She headed the pair of adults off and it took a moment for Vic to recognize her as Millie. 

“Father, where are you going?” The girl asked in obvius dismay. 

Charlie detached from Vic and went to crouch before the young girl. “Sugar plum, I have an errand to run with mother. We must go visit Uncle Abe and ask some questions. We won’t be long,” he said kindly to his biological daughter. 

But Millie pulled away, glaring at Vic. “She is not my mother!” The girl snapped. 

Charlie straighted, narrowing his eyes at his child. “You will apologize, now. Don’t make me put you on the naughty list, Millicent,” he warned. 

Vic saw the surprise in Millie’s eyes. This was obviously not the normal way the father and daughter spoke to each other. Then the little girls face pinched in annoyance but she turned to look at Vic all the same. 

“Apologies...mother.” The title dragged unbidden from the child’s lips and Vic hated it. “I will await your returns.” And with that Millie stormed off, hand on her sword hilt like a small fuming adult. 

Vic watched her go, ignoring the door Charlie was holding open for her. “Wasn’t that a little harsh?” She asked, looking at the man. 

Charlie sighed. “She’s been...troublesome of late. I’ll speak with her when we return. For now,” he gestured for her to step inside. 

Casting one last look at Christmasland, Vic let herself be guided into the Wraith’s front seat again. 

The ride was short and quiet, both occupants preoccupied with their own thoughts. Vic recognized the crackling of lighting and the staticy sky above. When they pulled into the parking lot of Parnassus, Vic felt her gut twist with a sense of deja vu. As if following her trail of thought, the Wraith’s seat warmed underneath her. Whether it was supposed to be reassuring or a reminder of their last tussle, Vic was not certain. She hopped out of the Wraith before Charlie could come round to open her door. 

“Sweet memories, my joy,” Charlie teased, a smirk dancing across one corner of his mouth. 

Vic glared in return. 

But when Charlie offered his elbow, Vic took it. She wasn’t going into this place without some kind of protection. 

But inside looked just like any other bar to Vic McQueen, and being the daughter of Chris McQueen, she’d seen her fair share. It was higher end, sure, but not by much. And the denizens...they were all staring at her and Charlie. 

“Walk sure and do not stare, Victoria,” Charlie assured her quietly and proceeded to guide them through the bar. Vic tried to follow his instructions but she found the sudden clearing of each table as they walked by a hard thing to ignore. 

Brows raised, she looked at Charlie for an explanation. He simply smirked as they went to the bar. 

“Two peppermint twists and one whiskey, on my tab,” Charlie ordered. 

“Two whiskey’s, one peppermint twist, actually,” Vic countered the order. A man with snake skin and fiddling with dice down the bar whistled in mock surprise and chuckled. Vic ignored him and Charlie’s look of annoyance.

Charlie grabbed his drink and the second whiskey before steering them towards a table in the corner where a wild haired older man with glasses was watching them approach with a shake of his head. 

“Well if it isn’t the Night Road’s newest power couple,” Abe said by way of sarcastic greeting. 

“Abe,” Charlie said in half greeting, half warning as he set Abe’s shot down in front of him. 

“Oh please, don’t get your crow feathers in a ruffle, Chuck,” Abe muttered, gesturing for them to sit. “Not like it wasn’t an 8 year fucked up courtship we all knew about.”

Charlie gestured for Vic to sit first and they scooted in. “Courtship isn’t what I’d call it,” Vic muttered, downing half her shot as she said so. 

Abe looked at her with a wry smile. “I like her,” he said honestly. “Smart girl.”

“And I’m not a girl,” Vic warned, swallowing down the bite. 

“No you aren’t, Vic McQueen,” Abe clinked his glass against her and winked. “Cheers,” he said before downing his shot, Vic shrugged and followed suit. Their empty glasses hitting the table at the same time. 

“Are you two quit finished?” Charlie asked, his arm snaking possessively over the back of Victoria’s chair. He gave Abe a pointed look. 

Abe snorted in response. “Ease up, Chuck. Not like anyone here can’t see you two have screwed already.”

Vic and Charlie stiffened at the same point, Vic turning a faint reddish color and Charlie glaring at the other man. 

“Don’t even give me that look. You came in here all proud as a peacock with this little lady on your arm. Why not get down to what it is you two lovebirds want and you can go ‘ho ho ho’ yourselves back to Christmasland, yeah?”


	19. Chapter 19

Charlie looked about ready to reach across the table and grab the other Strong Creative. It was gonna get them nowhere if the men got into a pissing contest. 

A hand gripping his thigh beneath the table stopped whatever it was Charlie planned to say in response to Abe’s little jibe. His head whipped around to look at Victoria, but she’d taken his moment of distraction to speak.

“I caused fireworks in Christmasland,” Vic said firmly. “And before you two start again, I mean literal fireworks.”

Abe leaned back in his chair slowly, arms crossing over his chest as he studied Vic through his thick glasses. “You altered his inscape.” It wasn’t a question. “I’m guessing not with that bike of yours.”

Vic flinched at the mention of her knife, her hand pulling away from Charlie and back onto her own lap. She distanced herself from him. “No.”

Abe’s eyes slid to Charlie for a moment, reading them both and quirking a brow. “Robbing the girl of her knife, are we, Chuck?”  
“Mind your business, Abe. Victoria and I have an agreement and it’s not why we are here.” Charlie snapped, but his eyes strayed to Victoria all the same. He did not like the way she pulled from him. 

Abe held up his hands in surrender. “Couples therapy ain’t my business. You kids figure out your troubles. But altering another person’s inscape...that’s new,” he admitted. “What’d you use to do it?”

Vic ignored Charlie’s gaze and kept her focus on Abe. “A, uh, drawing. Charlie gave me a studio and I was drawing from memory. I actually…” her brow creased. “Don’t even remember drawing it. One second I was putting charcoal to paper and next...fireworks.”

Charlie’s brow furrowed as well. “It’s not her gift.”

“No shit, Chuck.” Abe interjected, but he continued before Charlie could get his hackles up. “Besides you two hooking up, what else happened? Anything unusual between you two on the Parkway or after you arrived?”

Vic wanted to yell that everything had been unusual, every goddamn bit of her common sense had fled while being in the scope of Charlie Manx. But as far as unusual, it was hard to pick out individual moments for scrutiny. 

Charlie visibly tensed beside her. “I gave her my blood,” he said finally. He looked at Abe and the surprise on the bar owner's face was completely unshielded at that revelation. 

“How much?” Abe asked shortly. 

Charlie waved his hand dismissively. “A blood kiss.”

“So not much, but just enough, huh?” Abe quipped back. 

Vic was bubbling with annoyance as the two men ping ponged but gave her nothing. “Yeah, alright! I took some of this blood so the kids wouldn’t gobble me up. What’s that got to do with what I did?”

Abe gave a long suffering sigh. “It means...Chuck gave you a couple keys to the kingdom without thinking straight.” A scoff. “Got so hot and bothered that he finally had you, he got sloppy. Isn’t that right?” Abe directed the last part at Charlie. 

Charlie for his part, looked none too pleased with Abe’s description, but he looked thoughtful all the same. “Is there a way to reverse it?”

Abe shrugged. “Let the chit and her kid go home?” 

Vic tensed. Charlie glared. Abe smirked. 

“Didn’t think so,” he murmured, taking off his glasses to clean them quickly before slipping them back onto his nose. “The more you take from him, the more you’ll see Christmasland will start doing what you want too,” he told Vic. “May not be the biggest bonus deal. But fucking with another man’s inscape,” Abe chuckled. “How else you gonna spend your immortal future?”

“What do you mean, immortal?” Vic asked suddenly. 

Charlie stood at that moment, holding out his hand for Vic, but she ignored it. Her eyes were on Abe’s who had not taken his eyes off of her. 

“Victoria,” Charlie insisted. Again she ignored him. 

Abe tapped his shoulder. “Keep trading blood and you’ll find out.” 

Vic looked at her own left shoulder, where her blouse had shifted just enough to expose the still livid bite mark Charlie had left. It clicked. Vic got out of her seat, the chair screeching back in her wake and brushed past Charlie and his waiting hand. 

The cool anger he felt as Abe divulged so much was fanned to inferno at Victoria’s reaction. He did not immediately follow as his ire turned on Abe. “You go too far, Abe. This is my business and you are sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong,” he warned sharply. 

Abe snorted, not bothering to stand, even with Charlie Manx towering over him. “She woulda found out on her own, Chuck. Now go catch the girl before she falls off the Night Road.”

Charlie snarled but turned to follow Victoria. 

“You give that girl back her knife and she’ll kill you,” Abe’s words followed him out the door. 

Outside, he saw Victoria’s rigid back facing him. She’d barely made it out of Parnassus and was staring at the Wraith. That deep sense of deja vu hit and Charlie looked to see if there was a gas can in her hand. That make shift molotov she’d come after him barely a week ago with was missing though. Instead her empty hands were clenched into fists at her sides.


End file.
